


Get No Blame, Feel No Shame

by the_deep_magic



Category: Actor RPF, Star Trek RPF
Genre: Crack, Evil Twins, First Time, Insecurity, Leather Kink, M/M, Seduction, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 16:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/202964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_deep_magic/pseuds/the_deep_magic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris doesn’t have the courage to tell Zach how he feels.  But someone else might…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get No Blame, Feel No Shame

“I think there’s gotta be a sign at the door: You Must Be This Hot to Enter.  And there’s a scale, from, like, Brad Pitt to Steve Buscemi, and you’ve got to rank at least a Robert Pattinson to get in.”

Chris holds the phone to his ear with his shoulder so he can pick at his fingernail.  “RPattz?  Really, Zach?  _Really_?”

“Shut up.  He was good in that Dali thing.”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Anyway, what I’m saying is, RPa— Robert Pattinson would be the lower threshold.  Seriously, Chris, this club.  Everywhere you look, spontaneous orgasms.  Faces and bodies lovingly sculpted by Apollo himself.  And the asses, Chris.  The _asses_.”

“That so?”  Chris feels his face start to burn and gives up on his fingernail before he accidentally makes himself bleed.

“Sorry, too much?” Zach says, sounding slightly worried.  “I really do appreciate you putting up with my gay.  I’m trying to stay out of TMI territory.”

“It’s fine.”

“You can tell me stuff, too, you know.  Contrary to popular belief, I don’t get grossed out by the vag.”

Despite his mood, Chris cackles.  “’The vag?’  Wow.  Just… wow.  Have you ever actually seen one?”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Zach says stuffily.  “I don’t see the appeal, but I respect the man who does.”

 _Like me_ , Chris thinks stupidly.  “How did we fall down this particular rabbit hole?”

“Well, let’s see… you’re back in L.A., California guys versus New York guys, this awesome club, asses, vaginas, your sex life.  I think that was the general path.”

“Thanks for clarifying,” Chris sighs, slumping lower on the couch.  “I haven’t had time for any v— anything.  I just got back in from Vancouver on Saturday.”

“What, are you telling me the very single Ms. Witherspoon didn’t fall for your many and various charms?  She seems like such a lovely person.  Is she?  Is she lovely?”

“I don’t know, maybe?  What does that even mean?”  Chris tries to remember if he used to feel like this, like he’s always one step behind Zach.  Or maybe not even behind.  Maybe facing in a different direction altogether.  “I mean, she’s really sweet.  And really… organized.  So yeah, lovely, I guess.”

“Sweet and organized.  Chris, you know I love you, but your wooing needs some work.”

“Who said there was wooing?  There was no wooing!  It was a woo-free set.  Woo would be… unprofessional.”

“Okay, okay, geez.  I already regret using the word ‘woo.’”

“I’m not some creeper who’s always after whatever woman’s around,” Chris says, possibly a little more defensively than he means to.

“Did I say that, Chris?  I did not.  I’m just saying, _she’s_ famous and gorgeous and single, _you’re_ famous and single…”

“Hey, where was gorgeous?  She ranks a gorgeous and I don’t?”

“Hmm…” Zach says, pretending to ponder it.  “I think they’d let you into this club.  As long as you didn’t wear plaid.  Or any of the footwear in your closet.  And you let me do your hair first.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.  Shit, it’s almost six.  I need to get going.  It was really good to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Now that you’re done with the 14-hour days in moose country, you need to call me more often.”

“I will.  And it’s not like there are just moose wandering around everywhere up there.”

“Seriously, I have to go.”

“Well, then, bye.”

“Bye.”

The phone clicks and Chris tosses it somewhere farther down the couch.  It is good to talk to Zach, but it always leaves Chris feeling restless and a little pathetic.  Zach is in New York – doing the play, of course, but also all these fun, arty little things and meeting people and going to clubs that apparently have very high aesthetic standards, and Chris has spent the last few months… in moose country.  Even though there was only one moose, and it was in a nature preserve behind a fence, looking a bit forlorn at its situation.  So even _that_ wasn’t all that spectacular.

And Chris had felt like a moose on set most of the time, too.  He was used to the camaraderie of an ensemble cast – always someone else there who was in on the joke, a feeling like they were all in the shit together.  But Reese was always so staid and professional, and Tom was surprisingly British, and that left Chris, the flailing idiot who always said the stupidest thing just as the room went quiet.

He pulls the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and wraps up in it.  Despite the warmer weather in L.A., he still can’t seem to get warm after so long in Vancouver.  The warmest city in Canada, ugh.  It’s even colder in New York, though, at least right now.

Chris wants to go see Zach.  Badly.  If it were just a matter of seeing a friend in a play, he’d go.  But it’s this play, and it’s Zach, and Chris can’t face him like this, all tired and gross and full of self-pity.  Zach would… well, he’d probably try to cheer Chris up, maybe even take him out and try to be his wingman, and then Chris really will lose it.

It’s not just that Zach thinks he’s straight.  It’s that Zach’s always so careful to tiptoe around the gay stuff with him, like Chris is going to be offended.  Maybe that’s what Zach’s always had to do with straight friends or co-workers in the past, but it feels like Zach is holding out on him.  Like there’s already some kind of wall there, and if Chris were to say, “Zach, I’m at least half gay,” it would shock Zach so badly that the wall would turn into a fortress.  And if he continued with “…and I’m kind of in love with you,” well.  Boiling oil over the turrets, or something.

So Chris huddles on his couch, wrapped in a slightly off-smelling blanket and closing his eyes, just for a minute.  If only he had the self-confidence to march straight up to Zach and kiss him, like he’d imagined doing so often.  If only he had the courage to shove aside all the shit in the way for a moment and just go for it.  If only…

&&&

Zach kicks the door closed behind him, still shivering even in the warmth of his apartment.  _Too many California winters_ , he thinks, unwrapping his scarf and tugging off his gloves.  He goes to the thermostat, which he’s been keeping at a very environmentally-conscious 68 degrees.  He only pauses for a moment before knocking that sucker up to 78.  It’s just this once.  Who’s going to know?

He sighs happily as the heat kicks in and heads into the kitchen to make himself some tea.  It’s nearly midnight, so nothing with too much caffeine.  Something herbal, maybe.  With ginger in it.  That’ll warm him up.  By the time he’s decided on the tea and put the kettle on the stove, he’s warmed up enough to take off his coat.  When did he get so thin-blooded?

Zach sighs and leans back against the corner, trying not to watch the stove lest his water never boil.  A show every night, sometimes two shows a day, is taking its toll.  He’s no stranger to doing day after day of emotional scenes, but this has the added factor of monotony.  No matter how brilliant the words are, saying them night after night takes something away from their urgency.  Summoning up the same emotions at the same time each day gets old, and when it gets old, it gets stale.  And when it gets stale, it starts to suck.

The tea warms him considerably, enough that he removes his sweater, too.  He used to come home and catch up on his reading, or at least watch a little TV, but now he comes home, sits and his kitchen table, and stares at the front door until he’s ready to go to bed.  On nights when he’s going out with friends, he’s all energy and smiles, but when he just comes home after the show, it’s this strange little ritual.  He’s not sure how it happened, just that he always ends up in this particular chair, facing in this particular direction like he’s waiting for something to happen.

Even so, when the knock on the door comes, he jumps so high he nearly dumps his tea all over himself.

He waits a moment to see if it’s just some idiot teenager running up and down the stairs at midnight, knocking on every door just to be a pain in the ass.  It’s happened before.  But a few seconds later, there’s another knock, a firm _open up_ knock.  Zach quickly wipes the tea from his hands and goes to the door.

He looks through the peephole, and…  No, surely not.  “Chris?”

“Open the door, baby.”  It’s not a question.

Zach chuckles as he unlocks the chain and the deadbolt.  “Baby, huh?  Is this some kind of—”

He gets the door open and stops dead.  There, leaning against the wall like he’s just waiting for the inevitable, is Chris.  Or at least someone who _looks_ like Chris, someone who’s eyeballing Zach up and down like he’s the slowest gazelle in the pack, and… are those leather pants? 

“Uh, Chris?”

“Nope.  Close, though.”

“Not Chris?”

“Exactly.  May I come in?”

Well, this is… different.  He doesn’t know if it’s a prank or a new character Chris is testing out or… well, those are the only options he can come up with at the moment.  But it’s different.  It’s not delivering a two-page monologue about eighties politics or agonizing over leaving his dying lover, so it’s good.  “Please do.”  Zach stands aside and lets him in.

As soon as Chris gets inside, the jacket – also leather – comes off and gets tossed carelessly over the coffee table, though there’s a coat rack right next to the door.  Underneath it, Chris is wearing… Jesus, not much.  A tiny little T-shirt with the sleeves ripped off that’s riding up away from his already scandalously low waistband.  Zach can’t help but look for pubes, but he can’t even see a happy trail on that smooth lower belly.  There really should be a happy trail there. Oh god, did Chris _wax_?

Zach is pretty sure his mouth hasn’t been hanging open for the past few seconds.  “Aren’t you…”  _Supposed to be in L.A.?  Hairier?  Chris Pine?_   “Cold?”

Chris’ mouth twists up in a small, wicked smile that makes Zach’s stomach flip over.  “Not anymore.”

“Oh.  Well, good.  Um.  Do you want something to drink?  I just made tea, but I can make some more.  I think I have some coffee somewhere.”

“Nah, I’m good.”  He’s just standing there, hip cocked, staring at Zach.  Correction: eye-fucking Zach.  That’s really the only way to describe it.

Okay, enough of this.  Time for Zach to find out what he’s up to.  “So, not-Chris, what brings you to New York?”

This has the unexpected effect of making Chris tilt his head back and laugh.  “Huh, I don’t know.  Maybe the whimsical storefronts at Macy’s.  Maybe the giant Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.  Maybe _you_.”

He takes a step toward Zach with every word, so that he’s up in Zach’s face by the time he says “you.”  Okay, so he’s trying out a new character.  Zach can’t remember Chris saying anything about a script with an overtly flirtatious gay man, but Chris doesn’t tell him everything.  Well, if Chris really wants to get into character, he’s going to have to deal with some flirting back.  “Me?” Zach says coyly.  “I’m sure you didn’t fly all the way across the country right before Christmas just to see me.”

“Not just to _see_ you, no,” Chris says, and licks his lips.  Zach’s eyes can’t help but follow the path of that tongue around his lips, his heartbeat starting to rise in his chest.  It’s not just that Chris is almost painfully hot – especially in this outfit – it’s also that Zach never gets to flirt with him.  Well, he tries not to, anyway.  There’s always a line with straight guys, and once it’s been crossed, they start treating you differently, pushing you away.  Zach has tried to stay as far away from that line as possible.

Now, though, Chris has made it pretty obvious that he’s not himself, so all bets are off.  Well, maybe not all bets.  Only bets that involve remaining fully clothed.  So Zach takes a deep breath and glances down at his feet, and when he comes back up, he’s in full flirt mode.  “Okay, I’ll bite: what did you come here to do with me?”

“With you… for you… _to_ you,” Chris muses, bringing one hand up to trace the path of Zach’s collarbone.  “Take your pick.”

“Ooh, in that case, I’ll go with ‘to you,’” Zach says, his eyes lighting up.

Chris laughs again, softer this time, more intimate.  “Mmm, I like a man who gets right to the point.”

Zach snorts.  “Chris, man, if that was supposed to be innuendo, you need to work on it.”

“I keep telling you,” Chris says, getting even closer.  He walks his fingers up Zach’s chest with each word.  “I’m.  Not.  Chris.”

Zach straightens, leaning a little into Chris’ space to see if he’ll back off.  He doesn’t.  Zach can feel the heat radiating off his skin.  “Well, then, who are you?”

That earns him a wide, wicked grin.  “I’m Rodolfo, Chris’ evil twin.  Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Zach barely manages to keep from rolling his eyes.  _Rodolfo_.  “Chris has… mentioned you.”

“Mmm,” Chris hums, looking down Zach’s body to the crotch of his jeans where, yes, Zach’s cock is maybe a little interested.  Zach figures this is about the time Chris will freak out and drop the act, but instead his hand skirts down and – _hello_ – brushes right over Zach’s dick.  “Nice.  Shame about Chris.  He knows what he wants.  He just won’t reach out and…”  Chris’ eyes flick up to Zach’s.  “Take it.”

“Ooookay,” Zach says.  Something odd is definitely going on here, he just can’t quite put his finger on it.

“Fortunately, I have no such compunctions,” Chris purrs, right before his hand returns to the bulge in Zach’s jeans.  And _grabs_.

Well, that explains the oddness.  Zach absolutely does not jump three feet in the air, and he only shrieks a little.  “Whoa, okay Chris.  Line crossed.  Unless Rodolfo’s supposed to be a sex offender.  I mean, there’s seduction and then there’s molestation.”

“Apologies,” Chris says, but the toothy grin is back.  “Didn’t realize you were the wine-and-roses type.  I can recite some poetry, if you’d like.  Prefer to do it naked, though.”

“You… what?”

“Naked.  Nude.  Devoid of apparel.  ‘As souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be.’  Not that I’m the biggest fan of Donne, but he doesn’t mince words.”

“You… you like Donne.  You wrote your best college paper on him.”  Maybe Zach should’ve figured out something was seriously wrong before now – okay, he probably should’ve known long before now.  But… leather pants. 

“Still getting me confused with Chris,” Chris-Rodolfo says, shaking his head sadly.  “Just going to have to show you how different we are.” 

And so he takes off his shirt.

The spray tan should make the whole thing seem ridiculous, but it’s really not doing much of anything to distract from the fact that Chris is shirtless, in Zach’s apartment, and… flexing a little bit?  _Fuck, those arms_ , Zach thinks.  _He could probably hold me down and keep me there_.

“Like what you see?” Chris-Rodolfo purrs, turning unsubtly until Zach has an unobstructed view of that delectably round ass, lovingly cradled in leather.  “This could be yours,” he says over his shoulder, fixing Zach with a scorching look.  “I know you’ve thought about it.”

Zach wants to protest – because he has thought about it, though nobody should know that – but he finds that his mouth has gone completely dry.

“You want to bend me over the couch?” the other man continues.  “See how deep you can bury your dick in my ass?  Or maybe you want me face up, so you can watch me scream in ecstasy while you fuck me.”

“That—” Zach starts, blinking rapidly.  “We—”

Chris-Rodolfo turns back around, a grin slowly spreading across his face.  “Or maybe that’s not what you want at all.”  He leans back against the couch, tilting his hips just so to draw Zach’s attention down his body to the bulge currently testing the tensile strength of the zipper.  “Maybe _you’d_ rather be the one on your back, those long, perfect legs of yours tucked behind your head while I pound into you.  Do you think you can take me, Zach?  I’m pretty big.”  He reaches down and rubs himself through the leather, evidently enjoying the stimulation quite a bit if the way his hips rock against his hand is any indication.

Zach tries again.  “I don’t—”

But Chris-Rodolfo cuts him off, pushing off the couch and stalking towards him again.  “Dilated pupils, flushed skin, heavy breathing.”  He plants a hand on Zach’s chest.  “Racing heart.  Your body doesn’t lie, Zach.  You want me.”

It’s just a line, kind of a creepy one at that, but _god_ it sounds good on Chris’ (full, wet) lips.  Zach’s cock continues to harden even as he backs slowly away from the man in front of him and finally finds his voice.  “Chris— Rodolfo— _Whatever_ , what the fuck is going on?”

“Play dumb all you want, baby,” Chris-Rodolfo says, advancing on Zach until his back is against the living room wall.  “We have all the time we need.”

“What does that even mean?  Did… did you do something to Chris?”

He chuckles darkly.  “Chris is fine.  Boring and spineless, but fine.”

“Hey, there’s nothing spineless about Chris,” Zach says, fully aware of the futility of defending Chris to himself.

“It’s okay, Zach,” Chris-Rodolfo whispers, his eyes going wide and innocent.  “He wants you, too.  We both want you.”  He picks up Zach’s hands and rubs his thumbs across Zach’s palms.

Chris did that once.  He’d been pretending to read Zach’s palms, and in the process they’d both ended up laughing hysterically.  When Zach managed to catch his breath again, he’d realized Chris was still clutching his hands, his thumbs slowly massaging his palms.  It only lasted for a second, but it had obviously been memorable.

This has to be Chris staging some elaborate game, right?  There’s no other explanation for it.  This is _Chris_ here, holding Zach’s hands, offering his gorgeous body up to Zach.  He’s standing so close, and he smells so good, all warm skin and spice and pheromones.  In a moment of weakness, Zach leans in and presses their lips together.  Chris’ mouth slides open, moving against Zach’s so sweetly, his skin so hot under Zach’s hands…

 _No_.

It’s not right.  It’s…  Well, Zach has no idea who it is, but it isn’t quite Chris.  “I’m sorry, Chr— Rodolfo.  I can’t.  It’s not right.”

Suddenly, Zach worries he’s just sparked a meltdown, but Chris-Rodolfo only smiles and cups Zach’s cheek gently.   God, his hands are so big.  “It _is_ right, Zach.  We both want it, you and me.  _All_ of me.”

“I,” Zach says dumbly, for lack of anything else to say.  “You and _I_.  Chris would know that.”

“Zach,” the other man says, pleading now.

It’s the hardest syllable Zach’s ever had to utter.  “No.”

Chris-Rudolfo’s eyes go blank, and Zach is just steeling himself for the unholy wrath he knows is coming when the other man turns on his heels, marches into Zach’s bedroom, and shuts the door.

Zach hears the lock click and sighs, reaching down to adjust himself in his pants.  It’s going to be a very long night.

&&&

Chris’ first thought upon waking is _It’s so fucking bright in here_.  Without opening his eyes, he grabs the pillow next to him and clamps it over his head.

It’s too late, though – he’s already awake.  He groans and tries to roll over, but his legs feel hot and are apparently twisted in the sheets, because he can hardly move them at all.  Finally, he throws off the pillow and pushes up on his elbows, rubbing at his tired eyes.

This is not his bed.

This is not his bedroom.

This is probably not even his apartment.

He yelps and tries to leap out of the bed, but his legs are still tangled and only his upper body makes it over the edge before he goes crashing down on the floor, landing with a painful _thud_ on his forearms.  He hears rustling outside the closed bedroom door and finally manages to kick his way free of the sheets to see that he’s wearing fucking _leather pants_.  Does he even own leather pants?

Now curled up on the bedroom floor, Chris hears footsteps approaching the room, then someone trying the door handle.  It’s apparently locked from the inside, and Chris breathes a sigh of relief.  Then he hears, “Chris?  Uh… Rodolfo?”

“Zach?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Zach_?”

“That’d be me.”

“Where the fuck am I?”

There’s a brief pause.  “Uh, well, you’re in my apartment.”

Chris looks around frantically – it’s not Zach’s LA apartment.  “In New York?”

“Yeah.”

“How the everloving fuck did I get here?”

Another pause.  “So I’m talking to Chris now?”

Chris scrambles to his feet.  “Is there someone else in here?”

“That’s an interesting question.”

“It’s a very fucking interesting question,” Chris yelps, getting his back against a wall and sweeping his eyes over the room.  No movement that he can see.  Is there room under the bed for a body?  “Did you fucking lock me in here with someone?”

He could swear he hears Zach sigh.  “No.  You locked me out.”

“I… what?”

“How are you feeling, Chris?”

“I just woke up locked in a room 3,000 miles from where I went to sleep.  How the fuck do you think I’m feeling?”

“So, uh, you don’t remember last night?”

“I remember falling asleep on the couch in my apartment watching a Top Chef marathon.”

“What day was that?”

“What day?” Chris asks incredulously, still not moving from his spot against the wall.  “Tuesday afternoon.”

“Well, it’s Thursday morning.  Pretty early Thursday morning.”

Chris squeaks.  “I lost a day?  More than a day?  Zach, what the fuck is going on?”

“You want to maybe either come out or let me in?  I’m getting kind of tired of talking to a closed door.”

“Yeah, uh…”  Chris glances down at himself.  “Do I have a shirt?  Or some kind of… normal, non-animal hide pants?”

“Your shirt’s out here.  I think those are the only pants you brought.”

“Of course they are,” Chris mumbles.  “I’m, uh, just let me go to the bathroom, and… I don’t know, brush my teeth or something.  I’ll be right out.”

“You can borrow some clothes if you want,” Zach says.  “I don’t know if any of my jeans will fit you, but there are some pajama pants and t-shirts in the dresser, top drawer on the left.”

“Okay.  Thanks,” Chris replies, gathering the items from the drawer.  He’s sort of glad Zach can’t see him like this; he needs a moment to get his head together.

He takes the clothes into the bathroom, finally attempting to peel himself out of the leather pants.  Just as he suspected – he’s not wearing any underwear. 

But that’s not the weirdest thing.  Not even close.

“Zach, did you…” he shouts.   “Motherfucker, did you _shave_ me?”

&&&

Five minutes later, Zach finally hears the door unlock.  He gets up from where he’s been sitting on the floor and watches Chris’ head peer warily around the door frame.

“You don’t still think I shaved you, do you?” Zach asks, trying to keep his voice even.

“No,” Chris sighs, “I admit that seems… unlikely.  Because, you know, everything else going on here is so likely.”

Zach chooses his next words as carefully as he can.  “Has this kind of thing ever happened before?  Where you black out and wake up somewhere else?”

“No!” Chris says defensively, finally emerging into the living room.  And _thank god_ , he’s wearing a pair of Zach’s flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt.  “I definitely do not make a habit of traveling all the way across the country without remembering it.”

“Well.  That’s good.  I guess,” Zach says, at a loss.  “You weren’t…  On Tuesday, were you… drunk?”

Chris rolls his eyes and goes over to plop down on the couch.  He moves more like Chris now, a little hunch in his shoulders, and even his slightly bitchy tone is oddly comforting.  “Yes, Zach, because my favorite thing to do is get sloppy, blacked-out drunk on Tuesday afternoons.  Jesus.”

“Hey, I’m just looking for some kind of explanation.”

“So, when did I get here?”

Zach tries not to visibly cringe.  “Last night, a little after midnight.”

“Did I say anything to you, or did I just walk straight into your room, lock the door, and crash?”

“Some things, uh.”  Zach swallows audibly.  “Were said.”

“Oh god, what did I say?”

“You, uh… you really don’t remember anything?”

“I thought we’d established that.  No, everything after Top Chef is a complete blank."

“Well, you, um, you knocked on my door.  And you came in.  And you were… not quite yourself.”

“Okay, so who was I?”

Zach snorts before he can help it.  “Rodolfo,” he mutters, not quite meaning for Chris to hear it.

“Did you just say Rodolfo?” Chris gasps, his eyes going wide.

“I… did.”

“I said I was _Rodolfo_?”

“You did.”

Chris groans and plants his face in his hands.  “Rodolfo’s supposed to be a joke.”

“So, you, uh… You know him?” Zach asks carefully.

“He’s not supposed to be _real_ ,” Chris moans.  He’s brought his legs up on to the couch and is quickly going fetal.

Zach is legitimately worried about Chris, but he’s also the closest he’s been to actually figuring this out.  “Okay, Chris, I’m here for you, but you really need to tell me who Rodolfo is.”

“He’s just…”  Chris shakes his head and looks up.  “You know how I hate doing the sexy photo shoots?”

“You’ve mentioned it, yes.”

“Well, back when I was doing the Entertainment Weekly one with Zoe, and I was kind of sucking at it, she said, ‘Pretend you’re not Chris.  Pretend you’re someone who totally gets turned on by the camera.’  And it worked.”

“Ergo Rodolfo.”

“Exactly.  So whenever I had to do the smoldering thing, out came this guy.  Some photographer’s PA asked me who I was channeling, and I said it was my body double Rodolfo, and it just kind of stuck.  And then whenever I had to go to some event to schmooze or something and I really didn’t want to, I thought, ‘Well, I’ll just be Rodolfo for the night.  He’ll know what to do.’”

“So you…”

“But it’s not like I was pulling a Fight Club and actually _becoming_ Rodolfo!  He was just a character!  And not even a very good one.”

“Well, he certainly seemed… confident.”

Chris looks up at Zach.  “Oh, god.  What did I do?”

“Well, Rodolfo seems to be, uh, somewhat attracted to me.  And was _very_ forward about it.”

The look on Chris’ face is nothing short of terror.  But it’s only for a second – then Chris is just flushing with embarrassment and covering his face with his hands again.  “I’m so sorry.  Whatever I said or did, I’m so sorry.”

Zach opens his mouth to dismiss it, say everything’s okay, but then he shuts it again.  What had Rodolfo said?  _We both want you_.  Zach joins Chris on the couch, trying not to spook him but laying a supportive hand on his back.  “So Rodolfo, he comes out when there’s something you need to do, but don’t feel secure or sexy enough to do it?”

Chris doesn’t uncurl, but he doesn’t shrug Zach’s hand off, either.  “Well, yeah, but it’s not like Chris goes and sits in the corner while Rodolfo comes out to play.  Not until yesterday.  Oh my god, I am so fucked up.”

“We’ll worry about that later.  This might sound like a stupid question, but… is Rodolfo gay?”

Zach is slightly worried Chris is going to shut down and refuse to answer the question, but he surprises the hell out of Zach by laughing.  “I’m pretty sure Rodolfo would sleep with anyone with a pulse.  What is that, pansexual?  Yeah, I think that word was coined just for him.”

“But he didn’t sleep with just anyone.  He – you – came all the way across the country to find me.  Why?”

“What are you trying to say, Zach?”  Chris looks away, his eyes focused firmly on the floor.

“Maybe Rodolfo was trying to help you do something you didn’t feel confident enough to do.”

“Why… why would you think that?” Chris asks, his voice weak.  It’s not an outright denial.  It’s not denial at all, really.

“Chris, if you have something to tell me, just _tell_ me.  I’m not going to freak out or get mad or anything.”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Chris sighs.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re…”  Chris gestures vaguely in Zach’s direction.  “And I’m…”  He gestures at himself this time.

“Okay, I have no idea what that means.”

With a groan, Chris says, “I don’t know if I can say it out loud.”

Maybe Zach should prod a little more, try and get Chris to actually articulate it, but Chris looks like he’s really suffering, so Zach just reaches out and gently pulls the large lump of curled-up Chris into his arms, pressing his nose into the side of Chris’ neck.  “Is it something like this?”

Chris hesitates.  “That’s the general idea, yes.”

Zach smiles and kisses the sensitive spot just below Chris’ ear.  “Maybe some of this?”

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me, you moron?”

“Remember my man-crush on Karl?  You laughed at that.  You said I was the straightest straight boy that ever drove straight down Straight Street.”

Zach just barely bites back a laugh.  “And none of that sounded like hyperbole to you?”

“All hyperbole contains a kernel of truth,” Chris mutters indignantly, and Zach just holds him tighter.

“I assume that applies to Rodolfo, too.”

“Yes,” Chris murmurs, so soft Zach can barely hear it.

“Well, I don’t want to disappoint him,” Zach says, his heart beating a little faster.  “He did fly all the way out here right before Christmas.”

Chris looks up.  “Oh shit, it’s the day before Christmas Eve, isn’t it?”

Zach’s heart sinks a little.  “You have somewhere to be?”

“Not until Christmas day.”

Chris hasn’t move, so Zach regains some hope.  “So we’ve got a little bit of time, huh?”

“Time for what?” Chris asks warily. 

“Time for whatever Rodolfo came here for.”

Chris’ eyes go wide.  “You’re… okay with that?”  Something about his expression strikes Zach as so adorable that he can barely keep from kissing him.

“I think I can soldier through it, yeah.”

“But, I mean…”  Chris fidgets, squirming a little in Zach’s arms.  “With me?”

Zach doesn’t even know what to say to that, so he just kisses him, a sweet, tender kiss on Chris’ slightly parted lips.  Chris makes a soft, disbelieving sound, but kisses back.  In fact, he’s the one who coaxes Zach’s lips apart with gentle sweeps of his tongue, and soon he’s got both hands on Zach’s face, stealing the breath from Zach’s lungs.

Suddenly, Chris pushes back, his eyes wild.  “Zach,” Chris says, “I need to tell you something.”

Zach’s heart freezes in his chest.  “O-okay?”

“I’m at least half gay,” says Chris, his face so deadly serious that Zach almost bursts out into laughter.

“I had gleaned that much, yes.”

“And I’m kind of in love with you.”

Zach can’t help the goofy grin that stretches across his face at the relief he feels.  “Yeah?”

Chris looks nervous, like he expects Zach to react to the revelation with something other than glee and imminent pantslessness.  “That okay?”

“That’s spectacular, Chris.”  And maybe Zach should be a little more delicate, but Chris did just fly across the country for him, so he’s willing to risk a little boldness.  “Wanna fuck?”

“Oh my god, _yes_.”  Chris barely gets the words out before he launches himself across the couch at Zach, shoving him on his back and peppering his face and jaw with kisses.

Chris is heavy on him, but Zach finds that he rather enjoys the feeling of Chris’ long, lean body pressing him into the couch cushions.  Zach shifts a little under him, aligning their hips so he can rock up and feel Chris’ growing erection rubbing against his own.   Chris moans happily against his neck, and Zach feels more excited about sex than he has in ages – he can’t wait to find out what Chris is like in bed.

He takes two firm handfuls of Chris’ ass and in his sexiest, gravelliest whisper, asks, “How do you want me?”

Chris’ hips stutter and he seems to falter, his mouth stilling below Zach’s ear.  “I—I don’t know.”

In a flash of inspiration, Zach asks, “How would Rodolfo want me?”

It works beautifully.  Chris thrusts down decisively with his hips and growls, “Naked and under me, gasping my name while I fuck you.”

 _Jesus_ , yes.  Zach isn’t sure if he actually says it or not, but he’s pretty sure Chris gets the picture when he lets his legs splay open even farther and pulls Chris’ hips even harder against his own.  The friction is good, even through jeans and flannel, but not enough for very long.

“Bed,” Zach gasps, shoving up hard enough to make Chris sit up.  Zach stands and starts to tug Chris toward the bedroom.

“Umm,” Chris says, stumbling slightly.  “I don’t have to put the leather pants back on, do I?  ‘Cause they look good, but they take like ten minutes to put on and even longer to get out of.”

Zach laughs, pulling his shirt over his head and urging Chris to do the same.  As good as Chris looked in leather, he looks even better all warm and rumpled and wearing Zach’s clothes.  Or rather, removing Zach’s clothes.  “No way.  I want you undressed as soon as possible.”

They pull apart to strip, but Chris hesitates when he starts to pull down the pajama pants.  “So I, uh, seemed to have engaged in a little hair removal prior to my trip over here.  It looks a little weird.”

“Define ‘weird.’”

Chris tugs the waistband out and looks down.  “The boys are all… naked down there.”  He shrugs.  “Makes everything look bigger, though.”

Zach chuckles, taking off his own pants so Chris will feel more comfortable.  “I’m sure it looks fine.  Actually, getting rid of the hair can make everything more sens— _Holy shit_.”

“What?” Chris asks, pajama pants around his knees.  “Weird?”

“Not weird,” Zach says, worried his eyes are bugging out of his head.  Rodolfo had said… but Zach had been sure he’d been exaggerating.  And it’s not even completely hard yet.  “Perfect.”

Chris’ face and neck flush red in the most adorable way, and he carefully removes and folds Zach’s pajama pants and sets them on the dresser.  “Um, you might want to wash these.  I didn’t have any underwear.”

“Chris, get over here _right now_.”

He shuffles over to the bed, and Zach grabs him around the waist and tugs him close as soon as he gets within arm range.  “Hey,” Zach says quietly, brushing Chris’ cheek with his fingers.  “Now there’s something _I_ need to tell you.  Rodolfo can help out if he needs to, but it’s Chris I want.”

Chris brightens at that, the beginnings of a smile curling at the edges of his mouth.  Zach can feel it under his fingers.  “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.  No contest.”

Chris’ smile seems to grow in confidence until Zach catches the barest glint of mischief in Chris’ eyes, right before he’s shoved backwards onto his own bed.  Zach gasps as Chris crawls over him, swooping in for a hard, deep kiss that leaves Zach gasping.  The tip of Chris’ dick is brushing his stomach, and there’s only one thing Zach can think about.  “Let me suck you a little first?”

Laughing, Chris nips at Zach’s chin.  “I like the way you think.”  He rolls over, pulling Zach on top of him.

It’s like being let loose in a sexy, sexy playground – Zach has acres of hot, smooth skin to explore, and he starts with his nose, breathing in the musky scent of Chris.  After that, it’s not long before Zach has to use his tongue, learning the taste of Chris’ skin, the exact texture of his nipples as they harden under careful and persistent attention.

“More,” Chris groans, tangling strong fingers in Zach’s hair, not directing him yet, but Zach recognizes the gesture for what it is.  He moves down Chris’ body, feeling the skin grow even softer beneath his lips as he approaches the slightly concave plane of Chris’ belly.  He lavishes Chris’ bellybutton with some slow whorls of his tongue, thoroughly enjoying the way the fingers in his hair tighten and the way the tip of Chris’ dick bumps against the underside of his chin when he opens his mouth a little wider.

It would make sense to go straight to Chris’ cock after that, but Zach skips it, the smooth skin of Chris’ ballsack beckoning to him.  Zach’s usually not a fan of the completely-bare look, but if Chris has never shaved or waxed here before – and it sure as hell sounds like he hasn’t – then he probably doesn’t know just how sensitive his skin will be.  Sure enough, his whole body jerks at the first strong lap of Zach’s tongue over his balls.  He makes a sound that’s not even close to being an actual word, and thus encouraged, Zach buries his face between Chris’ legs, nuzzling for all he’s worth.

Zach feels like he could go on for days, drawing his tongue over every centimeter of tight, silky skin and hearing Chris gasp for breath with each lick.  But by the time Zach has sucked both of Chris’ nuts in turn and started to move lower, Chris apparently decides it’s time to reassert his dominance.  He pulls Zach up by the hair, which only increases Zach’s desire to make him scream, and growls, “Suck my cock already.”

And, really, how can Zach complain about that?  Chris’ cock is gorgeous, heavy and thick and mouthwatering.  Zach drags his tongue up the underside before sucking on the glistening head with such force that Chris arches beneath him and a spurt of precum hits Zach’s tongue.  Chris is so deliciously wanton that Zach forgets to tease, just starts bobbing his head right away, jacking the base in sync with his mouth.

He’s distantly aware of Chris protesting, telling him to slow down, but Zach is having entirely too much fun.  It’s not until Chris gets a knee under Zach’s chest and pushes him up and off that Zach knows Rodolfo is rearing his head just a little.  “When I tell you to stop,” Chris gasps, a familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes, “you _stop_.”

“Fuck that,” Zach says, grinning, pretty sure what’s next but not sure which direction it’s coming from.  Instead of trying to topple him to the side, Chris lunges forward, shoving Zach onto his back at the foot of the bed so that his head is hanging over the edge.  As soon as Chris gets his knees under him, he grabs Zach by the waist and yanks until he’s got Zach right where he wants him, head back on the bed but hips hiked up over Chris’ thighs.

All this manhandling is doing seriously good things for Zach’s erection.  He reaches down to give himself a little relief and nods toward the nightstand.  “Condoms and lube in the drawer.”

Chris has to move to get them, but he’s right back in position and slapping Zach’s hand away before Zach can get half a dozen tugs at his aching cock.  Before Zach can complain, Chris’ slick hand takes its place, stroking Zach’s dick with a faint possessiveness that should probably not be turning Zach on as much as it is.

Then Zach’s cock is suddenly abandoned and two fingers are pressing their way inside of him.  It’s been a while and the sudden stretch is just this side of too much, but when Zach gasps, Chris slows down, rubbing his free hand in soothing circles over Zach’s hip.  “Better?”

“Yeah,” Zach grunts, shutting his eyes and concentrating on relaxing for Chris.

“So gorgeous,” he hears Chris murmur.  “Wanted this for so long.”

It takes some effort, but Zach curls up until he’s sitting in Chris’ lap, Chris’ fingers still thrusting inside of him, and kisses him thoroughly.   Chris’ arm is at an awkward angle, but he still manages to crook his fingers just so, swallowing each of Zach’s moans as the tips of his fingers brush over Zach’s prostate.  Maybe Zach shouldn’t be surprised, but he’s kind of amazed at how skillful Chris is, how clever and coordinated and _good_ at this.  When he’d let himself fantasize, he’d always imagined a sweetly fumbling Chris, eager but in need of direction.  The reality is so much better.

The kiss is so wonderfully distracting that Zach doesn’t even remember when Chris worked another finger inside of him.  Eventually, Chris groans, “Sorry, but my wrist is killing me.”

As he pulls his hand away and shakes the stiffness out of his wrist, Zach rearranges so he’s on his hands and knees.  He’d love to watch Chris’ face, he really would, but quite frankly he’s a little concerned about taking that massive cock, and he’s hoping this position will be easier.  “Guess you’re ready,” he hears Chris chuckle, then looks over his shoulder to see Chris rolling the condom on.

Before Zach knows it, Chris is up on his knees, rubbing the head of his dick against Zach’s hole, teasing both of them.  “C’mon,” Zach says, pressing back until Chris puts a hand on the small of his back and finally starts pushing in.  It hurts, but Zach can breathe through it, concentrating on the way Chris’ hands seem to tremble on his hips until the burn fades and Chris is all the way in, chest pressed flush to Zach’s back.

“Move,” Zach urges, squirming a little under Chris’ weight, but the other man stills him with an arm around his chest.

“W-wait,” Chris mumbles, his breath stuttering against the back of Zach’s neck.  “Too good.”

The moment seems to stretch on forever, Zach supporting most of their combined weight, stuffed achingly full of Chris’ cock while Chris smears his lips against the arch of Zach’s spine.  Finally, Chris lets out a deep breath and starts moving, slow rocking motions at first because Zach is still so tight around him.  He seems to gain confidence, though, pressing a final kiss to Zach’s back before pushing up on his knees again and beginning to pull out a few inches before thrusting back in.

Groaning, Zach drops down to his forearms as Chris settles into a rhythm.  It’s been forever since Zach has bottomed, and he’s forgotten how good it feels to just be fucked well and fucked hard by someone he’s wanted so badly.  Chris is running his hands all over Zach’s body like he’s learning the shape of him, and it feels like the prelude to something bigger, something Zach can’t even think about right now.

He’s so lost in the feeling that it takes him a moment to realize Chris’ thrusts have slowed, have now stopped and Chris is pinching at his nipples to get his attention.  “Zach, _Zach_.”

“Hnnngh?”

 “Turn over.  Wanna see you.”

Zach could probably kick his leg over Chris’ head and turn over completely without Chris having to pull out, but he saves his flexible theatrics until Chris has gotten him with his back against the pillows and is thrusting back in.  At that point, he catches Chris’ eye and, with a devious grin, draws his legs up easily to rest on Chris’ shoulders.

Chris’ eyes go wide and he moans as he sinks all the way in.  Zach presses in with his heels, folding himself nearly in half until Chris bends close enough for a kiss.  “You son of a bitch,” Chris groans against his lips.  “This is _not_ playing fair.”

“Then Rodolfo had better teach me a lesson,” Zach says, drumming his heels playfully against Chris’ back.

“Oh, I don’t know if you could handle Rodolfo right now,” Chris says, starting to pump his hips again.  “I think I’m more than enough for you.”

“Oh my god,” Zach gasps.  He means to tease back, but the words never quite coalesce as Chris’ cock starts to rub against his sweet spot with every thrust.  “ _There_.  Right there.”

Chris laughs breathlessly and starts to fuck into him with sharp, focused thrusts, and Zach has to reach behind him to grab the headboard.  His other hand fists in the sheets as he rides the sparking pleasure that’s starting to build low in his gut.  Chris’ eyes are so dark that Zach can barely see the blue irises, sweat beading on his forehead as he quickens the pace.

Zach feels Chris shudder, sees him nuzzle reverently against Zach’s calf before starting up even more intently than before, and realizes he’s just moaned Chris’ name.  So he does it again.  Chris practically growls as he reaches down between them, a strong hand wrapping around Zach’s cock and jerking him mercilessly.  Zach arches into the touch, muscles tightening as the pleasure starts to spiral up and up and up, out of his control as Chris’ hand moves faster and Zach is coming, wailing Chris’ name and shooting hard between their bellies.

Thankfully, Chris slows his pace as Zach comes down, his muscles starting to unwind in the aftermath.  His legs slip down to Chris’ waist and he flops bonelessly back to the bed.  “C’mon, Chris,” he pants, using what little energy he has left to roll his hips enticingly.  “Keep fucking me.”

Chris doesn’t have to be told twice.  He stretches out over Zach, plunges into him at a blinding pace.  Zach strokes his cheek gently, a tender counterpoint to the frenzied motion of Chris’ hips as he approaches his own climax.  Zach rubs his thumb over Chris’ soft, swollen lower lip, and Chris meets his eyes as he takes Zach thumb into his mouth.  He bites down a little as he comes – Zach honestly thinks he doesn’t know that he’s doing it – but Zach can hardly feel it, so enamored is he with the way Chris presses his face into Zach’s hand as he empties himself inside Zach.

&&&

Zach brings Chris’ jacket back to the bedroom, casually strolling naked through his apartment as he digs in the pockets.

“Hey, look at this,” he says, tossing some folded pieces of paper onto the bed.  “Looks like Rodolfo’s a planner.  And a bargain hunter, too.  Hot damn, I haven’t gotten a flight this cheap, like, ever.”

Chris sits up and unfolds a pre-printed boarding pass for a Saturday-morning flight back to LA.  It’s early, but it should get him back in time for lunch at his parents’ house.  While Chris is reading, Zach plops back down on the bed, wrapping himself around Chris and kissing his shoulder.  “Seriously, you ought to consult Rodolfo more often.  He managed to get you cheap flights, leather pants, a spray tan, _and_ a wax in less than 24 hours.”

Chris groans, idly rubbing a hand across his smooth belly – he really doesn’t want to think about the wax, or what’s going to happen when it starts to grow back in.  “Should we really be joking about Rodolfo?  I’m pretty sure he represents a severe psychological problem.”

Pulling Chris to lay down his arms, Zach chuckles.  “I’m cool with Rodolfo.  If he takes over again, you might want to, y’know, seek help, but something tells me he’s pretty satisfied with the way things turned out.”

“And, uh… you?” Chris asks, hiding his face against Zach’s neck.

“Am I satisfied with the way things turned out?” Zach asks with a laugh, rolling over to pin Chris to the bed.  “Do you really need to ask?”

“I guess not.”

“You guess…?  Chris,” Zach sighs, “this insecurity of yours, it’s out of control.  Listen, I have a show tonight and a matinee tomorrow.  In between times, we’re going to work on fucking that insecurity right out of you.  My Christmas present to you.”

Despite the blush threatening to spread across his cheeks, Chris tries his hardest not to laugh.  “That could take a lot of fucking.”

“I’m counting on it.  Clear your schedule, because I’m coming back to LA in February.”

“You are?”

“Yup,” Zach says, settling down to lie on top of Chris and fold his arms over Chris’ chest.  “Don’t want any of your other split personalities coming after me.”

Chris nearly rolls his eyes and shoves Zach off of him, but he decides this has potential.  “Zach, let me introduce you to Gustav, the nerdy Nordic librarian with a secret yoga fetish…”


End file.
